


Culmets Writing Prompts

by undernightlight



Series: Gays in Space [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Culmets - Freeform, Cute, M/M, Random & Short, Short, SpaceBoos, Tumblr Prompt, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-03-16 12:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undernightlight/pseuds/undernightlight
Summary: A collections of short fics about our spaceboos, all based of prompts I found.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! My updates will probably be very inconsistent, just a heads up. But enjoy what there is.

**Prompt: I stared into the darkness and the Devil whispered his name.**

When I was...trapped in the network, nothing quite felt real. It was like being in a coma, I suppose it was in a way; I was, at least, slightly aware of what was going on around me, what was being said to me and the distress on board the ship. I vaguely understood that we weren’t where we were supposed to be, that something with the jump went wrong, but I didn’t know what exactly happened. It was like there was a filter in my mind. I couldn’t process things the same way I could before.

So when I suddenly found myself in the network, truly in the network, I really thought I’d lost it. But the other me, that...toxic man, explained what happened to the both of us; that we’d both somehow gotten ourselves trapped and that I had to get us out. I agreed to help, he wasn’t lying. He’d tried to get out on his own, but he couldn’t, and he did genuinely need my help to get out, so I agreed.

The corruption I saw was all because of him. The network had been contaminated, it was dying, because of what he’d done to it. He’d poisoned it. At least it was poisoning him back. He deserved that. But Hugh….

I heard his voice and I just got a glimpse of him, but I knew it was him. I always know. And I followed him. The other me had said earlier that we shared a parallel fate, getting trapped, but clearly we didn’t share the same fate in affairs of the heart, as he had no idea who Hugh was. It’s sad in a way that he didn’t get to experience that love, but I like knowing that Hugh was only mine. I’m not always sure I deserved him, but I know that that Stamets definitely didn’t deserve Hugh.

He just wanted to make sure I was safe, that I knew what was going on, and that I could be saved. I realised then what I saw back in sick bay, that I saw Tyler….Tyler kill...Hugh. I’d thought it was a dream, or nightmare more appropriately, but no. He was dead. And I had to leave him.

When I wake up from whatever little sleep I manage, the other side of the bed is cold. Some mornings I listen to Kasselian opera when I get ready for my shift. Others I get ready silence. I don’t spend time there any more, unless I’m sleeping. It doesn’t feel right without him.

I work a lot more, which I didn’t think was possible, but is. I need to thank Cadet Tilly for her help. She doesn’t tend to leave me alone. And at first, I found this incredible annoying, but one day I...I just lost it, and she was there. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t even question my ability to function on shift. She was just there and she listened as I spoke and as I cried. I’m going to recommend her for a promotion, so she can finally be an officer.

I’m still at a lost as to what to do with myself most days after shift. Tilly invites me round, I don’t always take the offer but it’s always appreciated. Michael asked how I am too, and I say I’m fine. What else am I supposed to say?

Hugh, I’m sorry. I wish that I told you that I loved more often, and that I….spent less time down in engineering and more time at home, in your arms. I wish that I could see you again, one more time, but it could never be just one more time. I’d always need to see you again and again, and it would never be enough if I knew there’d be a goodbye at the end. I love you, my dear doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror!Stamets/Mirror!Culber.

**Prompt: “All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes.”**

 

Paul walked into the lab. Hugh was busy working on his test subject. He was going through them fast this week, already on his fourth corpse.

“Hi honey,” Paul said, getting his partners attention. Hugh turned around and smiled.

“Hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nothing, just thought I’d stop by, pay you a visit.” He approached him and pulled him close.

“I’ll get blood on your uniform.”

“So let there be blood on my uniform.” He kissed him, moving his hands to the small of his partners back. Somehow, Hugh managed to pull his gloves off before grappling onto Paul’s neck, running fingers through his hair.

“You know,” Hugh said when he pulled his lips away and examining Paul, “All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes.” Blood from Hugh’s sleeve had transferred onto Paul’s neck and Hugh lightly dragged his fingers down the stain. Blood all down the front of his uniform, shining nicely on his polished metal belt. Paul smiled, kissed him briefly, before pulling back.

“What are you working on?”

Hugh’s eye lit up at mention of his work. “I’m so glad you asked.” He grabbed a clean pair of gloves from the bottom of the metal trolley that was next to the operating table. “I’m working on a virus that destroys DNA and inhibits cell replication.”

“How?”

“The virus stimulates the activity of DNA helicase but inhibits DNA polymerase.”

“Meaning mitosis can’t happen; new cells can’t be made to replace the old ones.”

“Exactly. The full DNA helix is destroyed, and no new DNA made. No new cells are made to replace those that die, and so the body starts to be affected very quickly.”

“Immune system?”

“Yes. Neutrophils die within a few hours of being released into the blood. White blood cells die in a few days, same with colon cells in the intestine. With the immune system becoming weak, the infected has very little time to live, and it can get quite messy too. A simple cold becomes much more serious. The virus itself works to different degrees of effects, depending on dosage and overall health of the infected.”

“You’re a genius. And I love the dedication you have to your work; it’s very attractive you know.”

“I know. But I do have to work, not that I didn’t love seeing you.”

“Yeah, just be home for dinner, okay? You know I hate eating without you.”

“I’ll be home for dinner, seven o’clock latest, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” Paul leaned over and kissed his partner again, gentle, and placed a loving hand on his cheek. Hugh loved these surprise visits every so often, and he could see the love in Paul’s eyes when they pulled away.

The astromycologist went back to his lab. He was close to a breakthrough, he knew it, but his lab had been suffocating. Hugh always helps him clear his mind and get back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I doubt they were ever together in the Mirror Universe, I imagine they were a lot more open about their relationship that in the Prime Verse, that they would kiss in front of people and they had no concern about _staying professional_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul's a little insecure and worried about his feelings.

**Prompt: “Why are you avoiding me?”  
“Because….because I think I’m falling in love with you, okay? That’s why I’m avoiding you.” **

 

They had been seeing each other for four months now. Paul was enjoying himself...and that scared the shit out of him.

They’d go on dates, and Paul would laugh so much, like he’d never laughed before. And they’d talk like they’d known each other all their lives. And they’d dance, somehow he would be convinced to dance, and they’d dance like the world wasn’t there. He’d forget about anything and everything that wasn’t Hugh.

He was really, truly, so deeping and desperately, falling in love with him, and he didn’t know what to do.

Paul had come to this realisation about two weeks back, and since then, he hadn’t seen Hugh. He hadn’t called him, hadn’t messaged him, hadn’t had any contact with him. He did it deliberately. There were a couple of occasions in which Paul was late getting to the lab because he had to take a detour just to avoid seeing the doctor. He was sure Hugh had seen him at least once on one of these occasions.

This entire ‘in denial’ scheme was going perfectly fine, until Hugh cornered him one day in his lab.

“How did you-”

“Straal let me in, told me you’d been working ridiculous hours. He also told me you’ve been in a very weird mood these past two weeks. I haven’t seen you these past two weeks.”

“What’s your point?”

“What’s going on with you Paul?”

“Nothing. I’ve been busy, working, nothing unusual there.”

“Even you don’t work hours like this.”

“I’m close to a breakthrough.” He turned back to his work, dropping his eyes to his fungi sample in front of him.

“That’s not what Straal said. He said you’ve hit a brick wall.”

“I don’t tell him everything. There’s stuff I do involving my research that he doesn’t know.”

“You’re lab partners, he’d know if you were about to have a breakthrough involving the mycelial network.”

“We’re still individual people. We work on seperate things.”

“Are you done making excuses?”

Paul looked up then, his eyebrows skyward, shocked, somehow offended. He straightened himself out now. There was no escape from this now, he could tell.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“Because….because I think I’m falling in love with you, okay? That’s why I’m avoiding you.”

His voice rose, then fell. And the room fell silent. Paul felt suffocated. He wanted to run, to scream, to cry, to run down the flight deck and steal an oxygen mask. He didn’t know how long he’d held eye contact before he’d dropped his gaze to the floor. Eventually, Hugh spoke. His voice was soft and quiet and warm, like a blanket in winter.

“Is that all?”

“Is that all? I’ve only loved one person before; I was seventeen, it was my first proper relationship. I was head over heels for this guy, totally infatuated. I would’ve done anything for him. And he knew that, and he abused that. He abused-” He stopped himself. This wasn’t the time. All other words left his mouth. Hugh strode across the room, stopping in front of him, and he reached out his arms, dragging his hands down Paul’s biceps, then forearms, wrists, before holding his hands.

“Paul, I’m not him. Believe that, okay? I will not hurt you. And I won’t lie, love is complicated, it won’t be easy, but I am here. You are allowed to be confused by what you feel, that’s fine. I’ve been there-”

“But you’re not there now.”

“No, because I know I love you.” Paul could feel the air being sucked out of his lungs. He didn’t know where to look, the floor, his hands held in Hugh’s, Hugh’s eyes. “You don’t have to say it back. If you don’t know, that’s fine. If it turns out you don’t love me, that’s also fine.”

Paul nodded, not knowing how to respond. He’d never been good with feelings. But maybe it’d be okay. He could figure it out, in time, and then it’s be okay. He felt like he already knew the answer, but he had to be sure.

“It might take me some time.”

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere.” Paul smiled at him. He didn’t feel stressed anymore, because Hugh knew and understood.

“Thank you, I really don’t want you to go anywhere.” His tone was steady, confident. He didn’t want hugh to leave him, he knew that. He pulled Hugh closer, and kissed him. He could feel Hugh smile into the kiss, and he smiled back. It wasn’t the prettiest, but it meant so much to him. He felt like it could go on and he’d be very happy to let it, until he heard some loud applauding.

They break apart to see Straal leaning against the wall, clapping, smiling away.

“You two all patched up now? I’m not going to have to deal with Stamets moping anymore?”

“I don’t mope.”

“You mope. But as long as you don’t do it anymore, we’re all okay. So you good?”

“Yes Straal, we’re fine.”

“Good, because I’ve got a date with this girl, who’s hot by the way, and Hugh, you have this way of telling if they’re good for me, so you two are coming along.”

“Okay,” Hugh agreed for the both of them, “When?”

“An hour, so we all need to get changed. We can’t turn up in our uniforms. Let’s go Stamets!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one. I do actually plan on doing one that focuses more on Stamets and Straal's friendship, and how Straal helped Stamets with his relationship with Culber.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straal gets Stamets a date, but it's not that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of dialogue in this, which I'm not great at writing, but I feel it works best with these characters for me, as I imagine they are vocal about how they feel with each other, probably due to how close they are and how few friends that have other than each other.

**Prompt: Coming out**

 

He was sat in the lab, and it was getting late. He’d finished his required hours for the week and it was only Wednesday, but it didn’t stop him from working. He enjoyed his work, it was important to him, so it didn’t faze him when the sky when from blue to black and stars began to appear in the sky.

The work was slow, like it often was, but again, he enjoyed it, so he didn’t mind, but work always went faster with two. That lab partner of his...jeez, what a handful.

He means it in a nice way. Straal’s one of his only friends, okay, his only friend. It helped that they shared the same niche fascination with fungi and mycelium, since that was how they met. Stamets doubted they’d be friends if it wasn’t for that, purely because he has little to no interest to meeting new people. Well, most of the time. These past two weeks had been different when a rude but attractive doctor sat opposite in a cafe after attempting to hum Kasselian opera.

Hugh was nice, polite, and took an interest in his work, which was unusual but not unwelcome. He was passionate about his job, which Paul found _very_ attractive, and he liked how Hugh lit up when he talked about the miracle of life and biology and being a doctor. It was cute. It wasn’t serious yet of course, but Paul liked him, found that he felt relaxed around him. It took him probably two months to be this comfortable with Straal, and Doctor Culber managed it in two weeks.

But nobody knew. He had nobody to tell. Straal was his only friend and he didn’t even know he was gay. Wow, good friend Paul, he thought to himself. It wasn’t that he was keeping it a secret per say, but it never came up. Even in this day and age, Paul had had people leave because of this fact. He finally had someone to trust and he didn’t want to blow it, lose Straal and then feel so incredibly uncomfortable seeing him everyday in the lab, if you consider that Straal would even be able to manage continue working with him. Okay, so maybe he was hiding it a bit, but generally dating wasn’t something that concerned him. Only recently.

But Straal, that day, had taken the evening off, but around 8:30, said mycologist walking into the lab, uniform jacket unzipped and a smile beaming.

“Stamets,” he called, unnecessarily loud Paul noted.

“Straal,” he replied, in a calmer, more civilised manner.

“Guess what?”

“I don’t like guessing games, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I want you to guess.”

“You know I’ll never get it so you may as well tell me.”

“Damn you’re right, and I hate you when you’re right-”

“So you hate me all the time?”

“Oh shut up Stamets!” Paul cracked a grin, finally actually pushing his work away from him to give Straal his full attention, “Okay, so basically, I got us dates.”

“Date?” Paul managed.

“Yeah, dates, you know the kind; food, drink, dance, making out.”

“I know what I date is Straal, and the kissing isn’t necessary on the first date.”

“Maybe for you, but for me,” and Straal wiggles his eyebrows in a way of communicating far more the Stamets wanted to know, “But yeah, dates. I was talking to this girl, and she has a friend, and we want to go on a date, but she wouldn’t go without her friend, so I said I had a friend that would be perfect, meaning you of course, and she agreed, so this weekend we got dates.”

“I’m...busy this weekend, sorry.”

“Okay, I know you, and unless it’s work, you’re not busy. And you are not working this weekend.”

“Straal-”

“You’re not working this weekend, we’re going out, taking some nice girls with us, drink some, dance a bit, whatever, but no work!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you know.” How was he supposed to worm his way out of this one? What was he supposed to say? Maybe it was time to tell him. It could go terribly, but Straal was a good guy, a reasonable guy, and Stamets could talk to him about it, right? Yeah, Stamets could tell him, and now he has to really, it’s the only way.

“Stamets,you need to get out more, go a bar, pick up some girl and just have a-”

“I’m gay.”

That shut Straal up. Oh no, Stamets thought, abort, abort! Run! But there was nowhere to run to; Straal stood between him and the door, and as much as he fancied it at the moment, jumping out the window also wasn’t an option. Straal just stared at him, not saying anything.

“Straal, say something.”

Nothing. Paul could feel the tension. Maybe jumping out the window was an option after all.

“Please, say anything.”

Nothing, for a moment, then:

“Dumbass.”

What? Okay, that wasn’t the reaction he expected, but he wasn’t out of the metaphorical mycelial forest yet. This could still go terribly wrong. What if he was thrown out the window?

“You’re a dumbass, you know that. I’ve gone and gotten us perfectly good dates, and…” Straal seemed lost for words at this point, but Stamets could see the gears turning in his head, so he let them turn. “You didn’t tell me...why exactly?”

“I...didn’t want to be judge, I guess.” Paul couldn’t make eye contact now that he had to speak.

“How long have we known each other now?”

“I don’t know, maybe-”

“It was rhetorical. What I was trying to imply is that you’ve know me long enough to know I give a flying fuck.”

Oh. Okay, Paul thought, okay, this….is good, right? We’re good?

“We’re...okay?”

“Well, no, because now I have to cancel my date, unless she’s got a hot brother she wants to bring. How about that instead? I can ask, it’s no problem.”

“No, no, don’t do that. Not necessary.”

Straal nodded. This went okay, Paul thought. He clearly over complicated it, he does that, he knew that, but it’s such a hard thing not to do. And Paul watched his friend relax, his jokey body language reappear. But then he saw those gears turning again, and he got concerned.

“Wait, not necessary because you’re dating someone?”

He didn’t respond.

“Get out! You’ve got a boyfriend? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Sort of, it’s...new, not serious.”

“No excuse.” Straal only now decided to sit down, and sat directly in front of Stamets, leaning across the desk. “Name.” That was definitely not a question.

“Hugh.”

“Where’d you meet?” That was a question, nicer tone too.

“That small cafe, you took me there once, out of the on campus.”

“He’s Starfleet?”

“Doctor, yes.”

“How long?”

“About two weeks.”

“I want to meet him.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, maybe he can set me up with a nurse or something.”

“What about that date this weekend?”

“She only agreed because she could bring a friend. Not a big deal anyway, it was just a date. But I want to meet Hugh. This weekend. Lunch. Then you two can have the entire evening to do whatever it is you two like to do.” Eyebrow wiggling again.

“Straal!”

“I didn’t say anything, just….wear protection.”

“Straal!” Paul physically lunged himself across the table, but his lab partner was too quick and oved out of the way.

“Safety first!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh has a panic attack and Paul helps ground him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this does focus on a panic attack. If you're not comfortable reading this, please don't. It's not too descriptive, but if you're unsure whether you feel comfortable reading it, maybe best to not, just in case.

**Prompt: Panic attacks**

 

Hugh wakes up in sweats, heavy breathing and fuzzy eyes. The other side of the bed is cold. Paul isn’t there. Why? Why is he not there? Hugh tries to think clearly. He faintly hears the shower going in the bathroom, but it doesn’t calm him. It only reminds him how far away Paul is, an entire wall between them, and he needs him now. He tries to focus, he tries to breathe. He can’t.

In a futile attempt to regain some feeling of stability, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, but he sits immediately, feelings dizzy. He’s hot, he doesn’t know why as he shivers. He tries to focus again, but he can’t.

The shower stops, but he isn’t aware until he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he jumps. Paul’s stood, looking at him. He’s dressed, changed in his uniform trousers and t-shirt, a towel draped across his neck, shoulders and head, blond strands of hair seen underneath.

“Hugh, are you okay?”

He nods, doesn’t speak, can’t speak. He feels like his throat is closing up, choking, and he doesn’t know what to do. He looks back towards the ground to try and regain concentration, but it wasn’t working.

Paul knew something wasn’t right. He knew what was going on. He leans down, crouching in front of Hugh to find his gaze. He pulls the towel off of his head, dropping it on the floor beside him, giving Hugh a clear view of his face.

“Breathe for me, okay? In and out, in and out.” Paul stands and guides his partner to face him as he sat at the foot of the bed. “Follow my breathing.” Hugh twists to face him better, so he’s not looking at Paul’s face, instead, his chest, trying to breathe in and out at the same time, following his love’s instructions. It was hard. He leans forward and rests his head against Paul’s chest. He can feel the rise and fall, it’s easier to match now.

“Just breathe.” He does, he tries, and his breathing becomes steadier, deeper, as he follows the movements of his partner, who gently drawing soothing circles on the bad of his hand.

“Hugh, can you tell me five things you can see?” Paul can tell he’s calming down now, but he’s far from comfortable, far from feeling here and safe. It takes moments for Hugh to form any words in his mouth.

“I see...your hands, my hands, bed covers, your trousers and...and…” He couldn’t find anything else, he couldn't, he couldn't. Paul takes one hand and places it on Hugh’s cheek, guiding him to look up.

“And?”

“And I see your eyes.”

A small smile made its way onto Paul’s face. He’s making progress, he thought. “Tell me four things you can feel.”

“I feel your hand on my face, your other hand on mine, the bed underneath me. I feel water from your hair dripping on my leg.”

Hugh smiles ever slightly as Paul lunges to grab the towel from the floor and put it on his head, drying his hair with one hand, the other still holding Hugh’s. 

“Now, three things you can hear.”

“I hear the hum of the ship. I hear people walking outside. And I can hear your heart beating.”

“Two things you smell.” Paul discards the towel again, putting it in the wash basket.

“Your body wash and my shampoo.” Paul can't help but chuckle ever slightly.

“Guilty as charged. And one thing you can taste.”

Hugh feels much better now than he did before. He's grounded again, he knows where he is and who's his with. But really, how could he ever forget? He takes the opportunity, reaching up and pulling down on Paul’s neck.

“You.” And their lips connect, and it's warm and safe, something Hugh was sorely lacking minutes ago. Hugh liked feeling Paul, knowing he was close, that he could touch him, hold him, kiss him, and it all be there, for him. Nobody saw Paul like this, this shower head, out of uniform, smiling human, people didn't see that.

“Cheesy.” Paul said, smiling in the kiss and barely breaking contact.

“True, but you love my cheesy romance.” Hugh smiles back.

“I do.”

Paul pulls back but keeps Hugh in skin contact, holding his hand in one and holding onto his shoulder with the other, only this thumb making contact with the skin of Hugh’s collar bone. “Feeling better though?”

And Hugh nods. “I do. thank you.”

“Anytime, I'm always here. Do you need to talk?”

“Not now, later. Besides, you're going to be late for your shift.”

Paul glances at the clock. Shit, he's going to be late. He half jumps from the bed, trying to find where he flung his jacket from the night before, shimmying his arms through. Throughout this, Hugh stands, steady on his feet now.

“How about,” Paul begins, walking to his partner and wrapping his arms around his waist, “I take a late lunch, and we eat together? Say….two?”

“It's a date.”

Paul initiates the kiss this time, and Hugh is the one that pulls away, but he would've been happy to stay there all day if they didn't have shifts to get to.

“Go. You'll be late.” Hugh shoves him, forcing him to move in the direction of the door, all with a loving smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, dear doctor.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilly is there when Stamets has a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. Despite knowing what I wanted to happen, it took me a long time to write and I'm not sure why. But I've finished it now, though it may not be the best. I feel like it's slightly out of my normal writing style, but I like bits of this; the short sentences and choppy structure.

**Prompt: In the end, they were all made of flesh that can be cut, and bones that can be broken.**

 

It had been a week since Lieutenant Stamets came back.

It had been over a week since Doctor Culber died.

Cadet Tilly had been keeping a close eye on the Lieutenant since he’d gotten back. He’d been working non stop.

He looked tired, she noted, looking paler than usual with dark circles under his eyes. He was getting thinner too; she knew he wasn’t eating properly, if at all, and he was working constantly. She wasn’t the only one that had noticed this. Michael had asked Tilly if he was okay, and she just shrugged her shoulders, because she honestly didn’t know. Well, Tilly knew he wasn’t okay, who would be after the circumstances, but she didn’t know _how_ okay he was, or more appropriately, how not okay he was. He didn’t talk about. He kept whatever he was feeling to himself. She wondered how many people, if any, aboard the ship he would be willing to talk to.

She walked into engineering, he was already there, she didn’t know when he’d last slept. He just worked now. She didn’t leave him often, she worked more too because of this. She didn’t want him to be alone, to need someone and have no one there.

It was just the two of them in engineering, it had been that way the past two days, people taking time off in light of the impending Klingon victory. She didn’t mind working. She didn’t mind keeping Stamets company, even if he didn’t really appreciate it. He’d been his old, prickly self again, not that she judged him, she understood completely, everyone did. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when he was cold and cruel to them.

She started working, she didn’t say anything when she walked in and he didn’t even acknowledge her. She didn’t mind. The entire morning was practically silent. She’d ask questions, he’d give the shortest response possible, then continue his work. He disappeared into the cultivation chamber often, she noticed, and he’d spent inconsistent amounts of time in there. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she didn’t ask.

Despite the silence, lunch came quickly. She went to leave. He made no indication of leaving.

“Lieutenant, I’m going to lunch.” He did not reply. “Do you want anything brought back?”

“No Cadet.”

“Are you sure? Like, I could just get you something light, something to drink maybe.”

“No Cadet, I’m fine.” He didn’t even look up from his console when spoke. She left quietly.

She wasn’t very hungry. Her lunch break lasted a quarter of her allowed and regular time. So she headed back quickly, not wanting to leave the Lieutenant alone with his thoughts. She entered engineering, but saw no trace of her commanding officer around. He wasn’t at his station, at the chamber, or by the engine stations. Cultivation chamber, she thought, as she doubted he'd left engineering.

She walked over to the chambers entrance, despite knowing she should just go back to her station, continue working. She didn't. They'd rid the door of the breath scan long ago, and entered.

It was sad, seeing the forest dead like this. Somehow, a few fungi had survived, they weren't sure why. But they had survived and now extremely well looked after. She didn't see the Lieutenant immediately, but she saw the blue of his uniform through the black; she saw the silver bands through the death.

She walked over, down the steps, through the centre, turn left, look right. He was there, curled in on himself, silently shaking. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She stood there, quiet, before she eventually spoke.

“Lieutenant?” She kept her voice soft, low, but she startled him despite that.

His head bolted up; his face was wet and red, his pale skin emphasising the fact. She could hear his breathing was unstable, erratic, but he was trying to keep it under control, she could tell. His knees were brought into his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out, no sound. He just looked at her.

“Lieutenant?” She repeated. She took a step forward, and somehow he curled into himself more, his back pressed hard against the wall. She stopped where she was. “Please, I…” She didn't finish, because she didn't know what she wanted to say, what she wanted to ask of him.

She took another step forward. He didn't flinch back this time. She took steps until she slid down the wall beside him. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, but he wouldn't look directly at her, he couldn't. She brought her knees in too, resting her hands on top, opposed to him who used his arms to wrap around himself, keeping himself contained.

“If you need to talk,” she said, “I'm here to listen.” She looked at him and saw he was staring off into the distance, but his head turned slightly in her direction. He nodded, slight but she noticed, and they fell into silence for a while. She had nothing else to say, nothing she could say now. They just sat there.

He did eventually speak. “I knew it'd be hard, coming back, having to adjust without him, but I really don't know what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to get on with my life without him.” His voice was strained, tired and dry, like his vocal chords were being torn apart. Tilly just listened, but he asked her a question; “How do I do this?”

“Grieving….crying….a lot of crying usually. It takes time, but it's good to have a support network. And you have us, you have me, if you need me.” Her usual upbeat, fast spoken tone slowed, clear, soft and slow. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I'm always here Lieutenant.”

He nodded again, before laying his head down atop of Tilly’s.

“I hate having to go back to my quarters, where it’s cold and empty and quiet. And I have eating alone, if I eat at all; we used to always schedule our breaks and lunch to coincide, and we'd eat together and he'd drink his coffee and I'd drink my tea, and we'd talk. I hate that I don't have this constant nagging that I work to much.”

“And that’s okay. I’m not saying it will ever hurt less, and there won’t be times where you hate everything and everyone and just feel miserable, but things change and you learn how to manage the pain with the rest of your life, I suppose.”

She could feel the movement of his head on top of hers, he was nodding, and they fell into silence again. Over time, his arms relaxed, they stopped forcing his knees into his chest and his legs started sliding down and out in front of him. A hand reached across and rested on Tilly’s knee.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No need to thank me.”

“But thank you for being here, now.”

“I’ll always be here if you need me, sir.”

A huff left his mouth, a small chuckle at the formality. “But we should get back to work.”

“I’ll go. You….just return when you’re ready.” She stood, saw him shift to get up, and extended a hand to him, which he accepted and he was helped up. He nodded his head again as she gave him a small and soft smile. He was smoothing down his uniform when she turned and left the cultivation bay.

Engineering was still empty when she returned to her station. Five minutes later the Lieutenant reentered engineering. His face was still patched with red, but his eyes were less puffy, his demeanour was stable, almost normal for him, but his body was less stiff, like a weight had been lifted. She imagined it must’ve felt that way.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love writing things in first person.

**Prompt: He had beautiful eyes, the kind you could get lost in, and I guess I did.**

I think after meeting him, I became more defencive of the little things, especially the things he liked or...I guess embodied. That sounds weird, but hear me out.

I’ve always been pale, not for lack of trying in my teen years, but I’m pale. My hairs this weird blond-ginger-white blend and you can barely see my eyebrows half the time. I don’t mind, but this lack of pigment also means I have very light coloured eyes. Okay, so I’m not someone who suffers from a cripplingly low self esteem, but I’m sure all of us have something we’d like to change, but my eyes were never one. I don’t know, but I loved having these almost white blue eyes, and, I don’t know, I found it attractive too; a lot of the people I’d been out with have had bright eyes so I assumed that was my type, you know.

And apparently, since blue eyes are rarer, genetics and all, that they’re deemed more desirable? I actually thought that once. Then I met Hugh. I mean, I still wouldn’t change my eyes colour; they’d be no way I could compete with his.

Brown eyes were always so common and Straal had brown eyes and they just looked...average on him, not offence to Straal of course, but Hugh’s eyes were so different and I’m not even sure how to describe them.

They were beautiful, the colour of coffee, in the dark, and looking into them had the same effect in a way, making me all giddy and excited that I felt like I could run a marathon and...I don’t know, it’s funny but I’d get this rush like I’d just spooned in an entire bag of sugar directly into my stomach. Then when we used to take walks back on Alpha Centauri as night, his eyes looked like the night sky itself, with the street lights sparkling like the stars in his eyes and it was breathtaking. There was this one time when we were walking, and I got lost in his eyes, so genuinely and literally, that I wasn’t looking where I was going and I tripping on something, and I fell, and of course we were holding hands and I pulled him down with me. There we were, two idiots on the brink of love, laughing on the ground. I actually fell on my hand awkwardly, but didn’t really notice the pain until I got home. I had to go the hospital and turned out I sprained a finger, all because I was looking at his eyes instead of where I was putting my feet.

We used to take walks all the time, and in the bright daylight, his eyes were bright, brighter than mine. They had this almost childlike quality, like you could tell he was this happy little optimist just from his eyes. He always did see the best in people, and I’m so very thankful he saw the best in me. In restaurants or when we were indoors with those yellow-ish lights, his eyes were warm and just...they made me feel so protected, so secure and safe, like I could face the world and I would win if I was looking at him. It’s weird, I know, but I couldn’t help it.

See, the thing is, after, you know, I fell in love with him, I suddenly became so...I don’t know, I defended brown eyes a lot, and it was strange. I remember reading this book, some...I can’t remember, but it was talking about this character and giving this description and talking about the character having blue eyes. I’d read books before and all these romances talked about blue eyes and I got so sick of hearing it, because they were missing out on the joy of brown eyes. It’s stupid, I know, I know, but I was smitten and it was ridiculous the amount of emotional control he had over me without even trying. I was, so put it a different way, whipped, majorly whipped...but I honestly didn’t care because I had never been so happy in my entire life and I was totally in love and it was just so...I don’t know.

I miss him, of course, and it’s hard, but stupid little memories like him falling on top of me, and this time we went out and we got drunk and stumbled back to my place and it was all just a great night, and, you know, a great following morning, if you catch my drift...We had a great time, and it was like we were always in love. I mean, we were always in love, but it was always new love, this ‘butterflies in my stomach every time he laughs’ sort of thing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while...And I've had this just sitting. It's not brilliant but might as well do something with it.

**Prompt: Don’t yell at me in languages I don’t understand.**

He was sure the people two floors down could hear them.

“I wasn’t flirting with him, okay?! Why would I flirt with him? We’re dating. You were stood next to me, why would I flirt with somebody else?”

“I don’t know Paul, why don’t you tell me?” This fight had been going on since they left that goddamn bar. The entire walk back. Up the stairs. Walking to their door. And it continued once they got inside.

“I. Was. Not. Flirting. With. Him. He offered to buy me a drink, I said no, he proceeded to do so anyway. I didn’t drink it, I didn’t touch it. Nothing, okay? How many times do I have to say it?” He was getting agitated. Will Hugh just let it go? Believe him and then they can go to spoon or fuck, either, he didn’t care.

“No puedo creer esto.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I can’t believe this.”

“What you said wasn’t English.”

“Lo sé! Podría decir cualquier cosa y no tendrías idea de lo que significaba!”

“Don’t yell at me in a language I don’t understand.” Paul’s hands reached up, palms against his temples in frustration. He drags them down his face and he tries to cool down. “Look, Hugh, I get it okay. I had a drink in front of me that I hadn’t bought and you hadn’t bought, but I didn’t want it.” He takes steps forward towards Hugh, but he steps back. “Hugh, please.”

“I find it hard to...accept, I suppose.” His tone and voice had calmed too now. The argument wasn’t heated anymore. It didn’t really feel like an argument now. Hugh turned away and began pacing, nervous habit. The room began to quiet.

“Lo siento.” Hugh turned to face Paul, “Some of the little Spanish I know. That, and te amo.” Paul approached Hugh slowly, one step then pause, and Hugh let him come to him. When Paul was in front of him, his just stared at the ground. “Hugh, I really am sorry. If it came off as flirting, I-I was in the wrong. I should’ve been more assertive about it.” Paul reached up and ran his hands down Hugh’s arms.

“No, I mean, yes, it did come of as flirting, but I jumped a head, assumed something when I shouldn’t of. Lo siento.” Both seemed to breathe out in relief. There was still heat and tension in the air, their argument diffusing incredibly quickly from angered voices to hushed tones, but that was how they were, their moods jumping together form extremes. They could deal with each other in that way.

Paul pulled him in for a gentle hug, and Hugh returned with an equally gentle touch, hands lightly resting on his partner’s waist. As they held each other, tension seeped out of both of them, and quietly floated out the open window of Hugh’s bedroom.

“Can we go to bed?” Hugh said, his voice muffled by Paul’s body.

“Please, yes, can we? I’d like that.”

Hugh laughed at his partner, how sweet, he thought, and then he pulled away. He took a hold of Paul’s hands, and leaned in and kiss him. He still tasted like the whiskey he bought him. They pulled apart with smiles on their faces.


End file.
